


you better shut your windows tight

by miss_tatiana



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Unhappy Ending, right before ikithon, set during the year at soltryce academy, told through caleb's reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_tatiana/pseuds/miss_tatiana
Summary: “We won’t change, will we?” The question came from Astrid and was put to the other two. “If we join the…” She didn’t have to finish. It was all evident. The military. The force of the Empire. The Archmage.“Of course not,” said Caleb, even though, to him, it was obvious.





	you better shut your windows tight

**Author's Note:**

> title from the decemberists' shankill butchers, the most chilling tune on liam's caleb playlist

“We won’t change, will we?” The question came from Astrid and was put to the other two. “If we join the…” She didn’t have to finish. It was all evident. The military. The force of the Empire. The Archmage. 

Caleb thought it was ridiculous. Of course they wouldn’t change. They’d be the same people they were in the Academy, just more important. More powerful. His parents would be so proud. Personally, he couldn’t wait to start learning under the hand of Ikithon, the Archmage who’d hand picked them out of all the students in the Academy. He’d been told before that he led a blessed life, and now he believed them. How lucky were they, first to be accepted to the Academy, and now to be chosen to serve their kingdom?

“Of course not,” he said, even though it should have been clear to her. He said it anyway because he didn’t like how her voice was tense. “Wulf-”

“Right, of course not,” Wulf added when prompted. “You worry too much, flower.”

Astrid blushed at the name, and chuckled when they laughed, and she swatted away the hand Caleb tried to put on her shoulder. 

They were leaving for their new place to stay with Ikithon in the morning, still technically a function of the Academy but closer to the head of the Empire, and much more exclusive. Despite their excitement to leave, they were enjoying their last night in their old rooms - in Caleb’s old room, more specifically - just talking. There was a tension in the air, the feeling they were moving on to bigger, better things. And also a bit of nostalgia, a bit of reminiscing on all the good times they’d had at the Academy. 

“I don’t worry too much,” Astrid said, finally. She calculated everything. She’d probably figured mathematically how much one should worry. “You can’t worry too much.” 

“You can. You’re doing it now.” Wulf reached out to her hair, and she dodged. “Wait, can I braid-?”

“Oh.” Astrid turned her back to him and sat up a little straighter, feet of blonde hair tumbling down, following her spine. “Sure. It’s not very brushed.”

“I don’t mind.”

Caleb watched them. He watched the way Astrid smiled whenever she felt the tug of Wulf’s fingers in her hair, watched how Wulf caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth and held it there in concentration. He propped his head up on the heel of a hand and his chest felt warm and he had half a mind to draw them - even though he couldn’t draw - so he’d always remember the way they looked now, even when they were all old and important. 

It was weird, actually. He hadn’t valued the fact that they were all from Blumental until they left. And now, in the face of an even bigger move, it was nearly all he could think about. That he was so lucky to have them, and that they were from home. And it wasn’t like they’d never go back - they’d probably pay visits to their parents and to other friends - it was just that they hadn’t been split up yet, and everything they were facing, they were facing together. And they all grew up in the same fields, speaking the same language, with nearly the same neighbors. 

“Caleb, dear,” Astrid said, breaking Caleb free of his thoughts. “Light some candles, will you? It’s getting dark.”

She was right, it was after sunset and dinner and all responsibilities except for each other. Caleb snapped his fingers and never for a second watched the flame that appeared above them. He always, always watched them, and their reactions. Maybe he was a bit of a showoff, although he preferred entertainer, or something like that. He liked them watching him. Not many people, but them. He liked their faces when he did anything worth watching. And so he always made fire, the one thing he could do right without fail, worth watching. After conjuring it, he threw it from hand to hand like a hacky sack before stretching it into a ribbon of flame he wove between his fingers. He played with it until Astrid was chuckling under her breath, until there was a dull blush covering Wulf’s cheeks. Then he lit each of the many candles he had decorating his room, filling it with warm, gentle light. 

“You are unbelievable,” Astrid murmured, grinning. 

Wulf just cleared his throat a few times before turning back to Astrid’s hair. 

They talked about this and that, slipping from Common to their native Zemnian, focusing mostly on the trip and their new lives ahead of them. Astrid was planning the next day out hour by hour, her alchemist’s mind laying out their schedule just as carefully as she laid out ingredients for potions. Wulf, who didn’t talk when he didn’t really have something to say, finished Astrid’s hair and then did Caleb’s and laughed at their jokes, putting in a word or two of his own occasionally. Caleb was absentmindedly paging through a book as they talked, focusing more on the conversation than on the words on the page. He already knew all the information, and even if he just looked at it, he could remember it for whenever he needed it. That, and he was easily distracted, when he was with them. 

Eventually, when they’d put all but a few of the candles out, and they’d all managed to fit into Caleb’s bed, a sort of a silence fell. The constant conversation died out and was replaced with time to time comments, all three of them mostly in their own thoughts. After all, they had a lot to think about. 

After a particularly long stretch of silence, the soft sound of Astrid’s whisper touched the air. “Don’t laugh,” she murmured. “And I want a serious, honest answer.”

“Shoot,” Caleb returned. Her hand was rested gently across his chest, and he’d probably give her an honest answer to anything right now. 

“Will we change?”

“You already asked that,” Wulf said quietly. 

“And you laughed at me,” Astrid replied. “And we glossed over it, and I want a real answer.” She didn’t sound really angry, or upset, just a little worried. Anxious. 

“We will not change,” Caleb said firmly. “Nothing can change us.”

Astrid sighed, and that was answer enough for her. 

They exchanged a few more whispers that night before all falling into a heavy sleep, side by side by side. And what they said was true- they were each other’s identities and childhoods and they would never, never change. In that moment, it was so obvious to them. Astrid and Wulf and Caleb and their potions and spells and elements. They were set in stone. They could get promoted and learn more and more and move higher up but they’d still be them. They’d still be them. 

And, looking back on it, they really hadn’t changed. Astrid and Wulf hadn’t, that is. Even before Ikithon, Wulf was detached from pain in that not only feeling it didn’t bother him, but neither did inflicting in. Astrid had always loved poisons the best of all her potions, even before Ikithon. They didn’t change at all. They didn’t even adapt. That, whatever it was, which caused them to follow Ikithon’s orders - even those of execution - without hesitation, had always been inside them. Perfect soldiers are still perfect soldiers before they have a war to fight in. They had always been and would always be the children who’d killed their families without a second thought.

And so would he. Caleb might have changed, but only after it was too late. After the fire had been set. Back then, he’d do anything to get ahead. He’d do anything to have people look at him with pride. And he still would. He was still scrambling to find any pieces of information he could use to further his objective. He was still striving to do things that no one had done. He was still holding onto any affection and any kind words he could trick out of people, and he was still memorizing the way all his new friends looked at him in case they stopped. He wasn’t all that different. He was the boy who set the fire and burned down the house. He hadn’t changed, really, and he never would. 

**Author's Note:**

> :(


End file.
